


Midnight

by FoxRafer



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little slice of life ficlet. There needs to be more of <a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/foxrafer/pic/000akaft"><b>these two</b></a> because they're just so <a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/foxrafer/pic/000ahkc1"><b>cute</b></a> together.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> A little slice of life ficlet. There needs to be more of [**these two**](http://pics.livejournal.com/foxrafer/pic/000akaft) because they're just so [**cute**](http://pics.livejournal.com/foxrafer/pic/000ahkc1) together.

The only food he has in the house are a box of strawberry pop tarts, two slices of leftover margherita pizza and a half-empty bottle of red wine. Karl raises an eyebrow at the state of affairs in John's kitchen but gets only a loose-limbed shrug and a crooked smile in response. He watches silently as John puts the pizza in the microwave, half of the box top serving as platter, then sets the table with flat squares of paper towels for place mats, folded ones for napkins.

John serves the wine in juice glasses made from an etched amber that makes the wine look thick and cloudy. He slides the warmed, now-floppy pizza out of the oven and joins Karl at the table. Karl looks at the grease-stained and mangled cardboard and the melted cheese that's spilled on it, sees John take a much-too-big bite from his slice, and laughs.

"Classy," Karl remarks, and John answers with an even bigger bite.

The last song that played on the bar's jukebox still rattles in John's head and he hums along to the harmony only because he knows Karl won't recognize the tune. He toys with the idea of making Karl sing for his pleasure, insist on some makeshift karaoke before their clothes come off, but he's in no mood to wait. He finishes his pizza in only three or four bites, as if he's trying out for an eating contest, and finishes it off by carefully sipping the wine, keeping his eyes glued on the man beside him.

Karl wants to pay more attention to John's scrutiny, but he finds he's having trouble chewing. He might be slightly drunk, but no more so than John or so he tells himself, and he finds he has to focus more intently than he likes to avoid choking on his meal. But he can feel the intensity in the appraisal, begins a slow burn under John's gaze. They're hyper aware of each other, almost at a molecular level, so conscience of every shade and nuance the rest of the room seems to fade.

John's impatience is rising; he wonders if Karl is being purposefully slow, is reminded of the old men in the park sitting for hours over their lunches and a game of chess. There's a joke about aging and dentures right on the tip of his tongue, but Karl will either start laughing or biting; one will waste time while the other will require explanations tomorrow in makeup so he keeps the joke to himself.

As soon as Karl's put his last piece of pizza in his mouth, John scoops everything but the glasses off the table, forgetting or just not caring that Karl might want to wipe the grease off his hands. He throws everything in the recycle bin and returns, standing beside the table and continuing to keep Karl firmly in his sights.

"Do you intend to be this solicitous in bed?" Karl asks as he stands, wiping his hands on his jeans. He has to ask, has to see the shimmer in John's eyes, the animated gleam that only occurs when John's found something simultaneously funny and arousing. The corners of John's mouth quirk slightly upward, his head tilts imperceptibly, and for a moment Karl thinks he's going to hear some of John's patented caustic wit. Instead he slides on an impassive, unreadable to anyone but Karl, expression and clears his throat.

"You want a pop tart?" John's natural baritone is drifting toward bass and shoots through Karl like a javelin.

"I think I'll pass, thanks." Karl lowers his head for only a moment, looking down in case there's something to trip him when he moves. And in that instant John invades his space, so quickly Karl nearly gasps in surprise. He waits for the onslaught of John's barely contained passion, a full-blown assault to his senses. But instead John merely stands there - three long and steady beats - before leaning in and kissing Karl, the briefest and most gentlest of touches.

"I'll pick up breakfast in the morning," he promises, his breath ghosting over Karl's skin. Then he slowly takes Karl's hand in his own, and leads him to the bedroom.


End file.
